Reviews by abrisskull

Hot Chip is a relatively modern English synthpop band out of London that draws influences from house and disco, and its members are regularly active with other musical acts and DJ sets. It's clear from listening to this record, In Our Heads, that they understood their forefathers, like OMD and Depeche Mode, in their use of analog synths. Yet, they bring enough indie sensibilities in sound effects and songwriting that they avoid being too direct a throwback. The bouncy synthesizers, the guitar riffs, intricate percussion, and colorful textures work well across a variety of jams for the dance floor. The glistening keys that open to the disco beat and horn accompaniment of "Motion Sickness", the low-key simmer of "How Do You Do?", the guitar-led swaying ballad of "Look At Where We Are", the new jack swing shuffle of "These Chains", the somber bass-driven waltz of "Now There Is Nothing", this record goes through a good assortment of arrangements while employing introspective lyrics.

That said, I do feel that the vocal performances of the members were mostly dry, lacking emotional weight in delivery, even bordering on spoken dialogue on the closer "Always Been Your Love". For as much as these sonic palettes they can tap into are fun and danceable, I wish the vocals matched that energy more.

Still, this was a solid record from Hot Chip. I'll keep my eye open for these lads.

If you happen to live stateside like me, you would probably know Dexys Midnight Runners for their one US hit "Come on Eileen", and maybe "Geno" too if you are cool enough. If so, you would be surprised at first to find that their first three studio albums are in the 1001 Albums book series. That was certainly how I felt, until I remembered that the band was big back in the UK. Lest we forget, Robert Dimery is English, and he and his team have a proven track record of propping up acts from their home country that haven't been as popular across the Atlantic. I was willing to meet them halfway and see if I could understand the larger appeal Dexys Midnight Runners had overseas. Unfortunately, the first of these albums I got was the most esoteric of them.

The album Don't Stand Me Down was marred by the band personnel dropping from ten members to just four, troubled recording sessions, and frontman Kevin Rowland refusing to publicly promote the album. Sometimes, an album can come out amazing under such difficult circumstances, but I'm not sure this one came out completely unscathed. While it sonically continues in the band's trademark new wave meets blue-eyed soul crossover style, complete with Helen O'Hara's excellent violin playing, Kevin opted for more rambling conversational dialogue as opposed to outright singing. Whether it's over the gorgeous string arrangement of "Knowledge of Beauty" or over the same cadence as Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London" on "One of Those Things", Kevin certainly rattled on about whatever troubled his mind. I didn't hate this lyrical approach, but I also didn't feel as thoroughly engaged with it. Which is a shame, as I am admittedly fond of his usual idiosyncratic delivery, and he does showcase his vocal depth in spurts alongside the heartfelt arrangements, really only kicking into full gear with the penultimate track "Listen to This".

I think there was a potentially great album underneath all the deliberate obfuscation going on here. But as it is, Don't Stand Me Down is a rather unfortunate example of a group grinding their gears for too long. The band would break up shortly after that release, only to reform in the 2000s and then put out their follow-up in 2012 under just Dexys. From the sound of things, Kevin and company sound a bit more amicable towards each other and their legacy, which I can take solace in.

Jorge Ben Jor is a Brazilian popular musician who is well known for playing a style of samba that incorporates elements of soul, funk, and bossa nova. His broad appeal led to a successful career, affording him the leeway to further experiment with his sound. África Brasil was one of those experiments, ditching the acoustic guitar in favor of the electric guitar, while still offering a celebratory and historical tribute to Afro-Brazilian culture.

I'll be honest, I was genuinely impressed by this record. The syncopated rhythms, the funky guitarwork, Ben's soulful delivery alongside the backing vocalists, all these elements come together with such a vibrant energy in these compositions. You know you got me hooked when these performances have me singing along, and I don't even speak Portuguese. Of course, it helps that the translated lyrics offer positive affirmations and solidarity between Africa and Brazil, to the point of highlighting historical figures, football, and tied ancestry. The only song that felt thematically different was the re-recording of "Taj Mahal" regarding the Indian structure, but even that was a genuine bop with the sped-up rhythm amidst the banging of the congas and timbales, with a vocal melody that Rod Stewart would end up using later.

This is the kind of album that puts a smile on my face. África Brasil is the type of cultural celebration that transcends borders, and I'm glad to have enjoyed it.

It's difficult to distill what the band Television is all about. "Art punk" is certainly a blanket term used to describe them, but that barely scratches the surface. They gained notoriety like any other burgeoning punk band at the time, with a residency at the CBGB club in Manhattan. Yet their musical style reflected a wide array of influences from rock and roll to jazz. They were intriguing enough to land a recording deal with Elektra Records that allowed frontman Tom Verlaine to self-produce, alongside engineer Andy Johns. That first album, Marquee Moon, proved to be a landmark influence on the post-punk and new wave movements to come.

One of the first observations I made with this record is how many catchy guitar hooks the band brought to the table. The guitar work of Verlaine and Richard Lloyd made for some extremely earworm-inducing listens as they trade off elegant solos and interplay around the tight rhythm section. Employing progressive song structures that took major influence from avant-garde jazz, and with Verlaine's lyrics that mystify the urban landscape, the band spun gold out of the surrounding decay. Hell, the ten-minute title track alone is something to behold, as several movements are taken to reflect on how best to live in the moment.

Marquee Moon was an impressive debut for Television. It's a sprawling, eclectic yet jagged series of performances that would prove to be a cornerstone for decades of music to come.

The Cult's career trajectory has always struck me as an oddity. They started as a gothic, post-punk act that saw commercial success with their second album, Love, buoyed by the single "She Sells Sanctuary". As they were writing and recording the follow-up, tentatively titled Peace, they grew tired of the reverb and wall of noise sound they were known for at the time. They opted to switch their style and image towards the hard rock of their influences, like the Doors, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC, and sought out producer Rick Rubin to remix at least the lead single for their next record, "Love Removal Machine." Instead, Rick criticized the use of guitar effects the band employed, and gave them a bold ultimatum: "Do you guys wanna make English pussy music, or do you want to rock?" Thus, the album was re-recorded with Rubin as their new producer, and this new direction resulted in the third record, Electric.

As someone who enjoys gothic rock, I could recognize some hard rock tendencies that The Cult utilized in their early records, so I can somewhat understand the progression they went toward. I also enjoy some cheesy hard rock, and this album is no exception. The aforementioned "Love Removal Machine", "Wild Flower", "Bad Fun", "King Contrary Man", "Outlaw", and "Memphis Hip Shake" all fit that penchant, as Ian Astbury belted out alongside Billy Duffy's flash-in-the-pan guitar soloing, and the tight rhythm section from Jamie Stewart and Les Warner. If the band and Rubin's goal was to emulate AC/DC as closely as possible, I say they got there for the most part.

The only problem is that even my love for cheesy hard rock has its limits. I didn't care much for the word salad that was "Aphrodisiac Jacket", and "Peace Dog" saw the band ham-fistedly rip at their previous 1960s counterculture-influenced image. But easily the worst of this record comes in their cover of Steppenwolf's "Born to Be Wild", where the slower tempo and Ian's warbly delivery did not mesh well at all for this song. It's not like you couldn't accomplish a heavier cover of this song. When Slade, Riot, Blue Öyster Cult, and even Link Wray got their covers right, you have no excuse.

Still, Electric was a fun record overall. The Cult would continue to employ the hard rock style in their career, and even return to their gothic roots for more recent records. But at this point, they certainly struck a formula.

I was not familiar with Gram Parsons before. Apparently, he was a member of groups like the Flying Burrito Brothers and, more notably, the Byrds. In fact, his contributions to the latter led to the stylistic shift in the Byrds' music from psychedelia to country rock. After time spent in those groups, he pursued a solo career, working alongside singer-songwriter Emmylou Harris and Elvis Presley's "Taking Care of Business" backing band. However, after finishing the mixing for his second solo album, Parsons went on vacation in Joshua Tree, California, where he died after a fatal overdose of drugs and alcohol. For all intents and purposes, Grievous Angel ended up a posthumous release.

I will say, this was a decent slice of country rock from Gram, Emmylou, and company. The twanging guitar work, vocal harmonies, and tight rhythm section come together for a mostly solid listen alongside heartfelt lyrics that reflect on relationships that have faltered and musings on death. Even if the lyrics could have afforded more finer details, and that they didn't bother with the trite take on Everly Brothers' "Love Hurts" or the fake live medley with canned applause sounds, there was enough musicianship and personality here to leave me wondering how Gram's musical career would have turned out if he were still alive.

At the end of the day, Grievous Angel was a good record, one that I can only assume Gram would have been proud of.

Since I listened to those other two Prince albums on my journey, my feelings toward funk, synthpop, and new wave as genres have significantly improved. Classic records with those styles were brought to my attention, and even some newer artists have embraced those older sounds into new paths. Thus, I return to Prince on more amicable terms, with arguably the best record he ever made.

While I have yet to see the film Purple Rain, its soundtrack album has been widely regarded. Four of the singles continue to get rotation on the radio, and what's amazing is that the rest of the tracks are as good, if not better. The interweaving of synthetic and organic instruments throughout this record, bolstered by such glossy production, made for an excellent listening experience. Particular highlights for me were the electric guitar soloing in "Let's Go Crazy" and "Computer Blue", the duet Prince does with Apollina Otero as the acoustic guitar strums with the string arrangement on "Take Me With U", the raw, electronic ballad with Prince's passionate singing on "The Beautiful Ones", the hedonistic sex jam "Darling Nikki", the surprising bass-less groove of "When Doves Cry", the buzzing shuffle beat with the synths on "I Would Die 4 U", and the emotional gut-punch that is the closing title track. Prince delivered with such charisma as he explored his sexual nature through a wide range of emotions, without ever coming off as too self-indulgent.

There's not much else that needs to be said for Purple Rain, as it is an excellent record that has withstood the test of time.

Alright, getting to check out De La Soul today. The Long Island trio of Kelvin "Posdnuos" Mercer, David "Trugoy the Dove" Jolicoeur, and Vincent "Maseo" Mason is considered one of the biggest alternative hip-hop groups out there, and they have been playing the game since high school. They got to work early on with producer Prince Paul, known for leading the hip hop group Stetsasonic, and exploded onto the scene with their debut, 3 Feet High and Rising.

Right off the bat, the production on this record is astounding. This is one of those early sample-heavy hip-hop records where De La Soul and Prince Paul pulled several elements from existing tracks to create new sonic palettes. The hook of "Me, Myself and I" lifted from Funkadelic's "(Not Just) Knee Deep", the foundation of "The Magic Number" being based on an old Schoolhouse Rock tune, the multiple utterances of "rock" used throughout "Cool Breeze on the Rocks", sneaking in a bit of Kraftwerk's "Trans Europe Express" on "Ghetto Thang". Hell, one of my favorite tracks on this album, "Eye Know", is a grooving cross between Otis Redding, Sly & the Family Stone, and Steely Dan of all bands. Much like the Beastie Boys would do on Paul's Boutique later that same year, De La Soul were very inventive in how they incorporated the samples to create fresh beats and ad-libs for a fun, timeless listening experience.

As for the lyrical content, the three of them traded bars that swerve between intellectual and surreal. These are three dudes having fun while also largely avoiding or lampooning the more confrontational subject matter of the purveying gangsta rap of the time. From dealing with sexual encounters on "Jenifa Taught Me (Derwin's Revenge)" and "Eye Know", to addressing poverty and social injustice on "Ghetto Thang", to speaking awareness of overtaking drugs on "Say No Go", to standing up against labels being put on them on "Me, Myself and I", and offering guidance in moving forward with life on "Tread Water", the group spoke thoughtfully on the different problems they were seeing. All the while, they threw in hilarious bits like sharing secrets, offering soap to deal with smells, and goofing around with their fellow Native Tongues friends on the posse cut "Buddy".

Continuing with the humorous nature, this album is one of the first in hip-hop history to employ skits. Mostly, the narrative of this record involves a game show in which all the members are contestants trying to answer questions, and the skits work in this lane for the most part. I could have done without the "De La Orgee" skit, but even that wasn't enough to deter me from enjoying this record. Plus, an argument could be made that they were once again lampooning the more sexual tendencies of some rap groups.

Overall, 3 Feet High and Rising proved to be a phenomenal debut for De La Soul. The guys knew how to break onto the scene with their own identity, and are all the better for it.

Let me start by stating that Jimmy Smith was a prolific musician who helped link the styles of jazz and 1960s soul music, with his improvisational work on the Hammond proving influential on jazz organists since. To be fair, his work does shine in moments across Back at the Chicken Shack opposite tenor saxophonist Stanley Turrentine as the two traded some decent hooks and melodies. Occasionally, there is even some decent guitar noodling from Kenny Burrell. But, throughout the listen, whenever Jimmy took a back seat in favor of Stanley, the organ sounded weirdly muted as he had to make up for the lack of any bass. The rhythm section here is largely drummer Donald Bailey, who played fine, but not enough to create a solid foundation for this record on his own.

I'm reminded of the Green Onions album from Booker T. & the M.G.'s, which I got earlier in my album journey. Both albums are decent, low-key, Hammond organ-led instrumental records, consisting of a few original compositions mixed with covers, and barely clocking in at over half an hour. At best, I see them both as neat novelties, but not anything profound or transcendental. Again, I hear the pedigree with Jimmy and Stanley's work here, but I can't imagine myself coming back to this record often.

Erykah Badu is someone whom I just started listening to last year. Like with D'Angelo, she is often considered an instrumental figure in the neo-soul movement. In fact, the two of them collaborated in the short-lived Soulquarians collective. Alongside that, Erykah had a son with her then-partner, André 3000, before the two of them split. All these elements together form the background to her second studio record, Mama's Gun, as Erykah embraced a more sonically eclectic sound while addressing her complications with fame, her new motherhood, and her separation from André.

This record does sound tantalizing to me. Erykah's singing voice often gets compared to Billie Holiday, and I can hear the comparison in the hypnotic and swirling nature of the delivery. It helps that the production she worked on with Questlove and Pino Palladino sounded very organic, as tracks vary in style across soul, funk, rock, jazz, and reggae without ever coming across as jarring in transitions, thanks in part to some excellent work from the session musicians.

Adding to the experience are some very introspective lyrics coming from Erykah. The "mama's gun" of the album title serves as a metaphor for how she wants to be a protective mother for her son. As such, she draws on past experiences to explore themes of love, self-worth, and social equity as she wants the best for herself and her loved ones. The forewarnings of street crime on "Penitentiary Philosophy" and "Time's a Wastin'", the desire to seek a righteous path in "Didn't Cha Know" and "My Life", the challenging of perceptions around women on "Cleva" and "Booty", the pursuit of freedom simultaneously with love on "Kiss Me on My Neck", "In Love with You", and especially "Orange Moon" with her desire to find happiness and reinforce her belief in God. The album closes with the ten-minute suite "Green Eyes", in which Erykah explores her heartbreak and separation from André 3000 across three movements. She learns to accept that the relationship is over and must move on as amicably as she can.

For as much as this album resonated well with me, there is still this nagging sense within myself that the album could've been trimmed down a bit. At the very least, it sounds like the back half after the "Hey Sugah" interlude sounded more intriguing in terms of composition and lyrical writing than the earlier tracks. Then again, it's difficult to say what could have been cut, considering how much Erykah made apparent on this record with the changes she went through at this time.

I'm sure that Mama's Gun will grow on me, and it will be interesting to revisit down the line. For now, I think this album is good and worth your time.

Dave Brubeck was an American pianist and composer who applied his classical training to jazz, leading to such success that he formed a quartet with a military friend, alto saxophonist Paul Desmond. They continued to gain momentum after touring several college campuses around the country, recruiting bassist Eugene Wright and drummer Joe Morello along the way. After performing across multiple countries, Dave Brubeck and the gang sat down and recorded an album inspired by the various musical styles observed in their tour across Europe and Asia. The resulting record, Time Out, has since become a staple in the cool jazz pantheon for a reason.

This album is paradoxically complex and simple in its presentation. The use of odd time signatures, interchanging rhythms, and virtuoso soloing from each of the members all coalesce into what could be considered artistically challenging on the surface. But the more I sat with this record, the more I realized that there wasn't a single passing that felt overwhelming or flew over my head. Each member took their turn with soloing while the rest formed a rhythm section around whoever was currently improvising, providing the necessary anchor in the composition. Probably the best example of this was the hit "Take Five", where Paul and Joe took turns with the spotlight while the other took a step back, all the while Dave and Eugene provided the subtle motifs to keep the song at a steady pace. It's this chemistry amongst bandmates that proved effective across the whole record, as the quarter ran the gamut through waltzes and beat switches galore, and they kept me engaged throughout the runtime as a result.

Time Out was, simply put, an astounding record that showcased the kind of camaraderie that Dave Brubeck and his quartet developed after all that time touring together. It's amazing what can be accomplished with a team mentality.

Jacques Brel is a name I hadn't heard of before. From what I gather, he was a Belgian singer and actor, often considered a master of the chanson, which is a form of lyric-driven French song. Apparently, he had a profound influence on several big-name artists, including David Bowie, Scott Walker and Neil Hannon of the Divine Comedy. I was curious what his music was like.

I will say for this live compilation of his 1964 performances at the Olympia Hall in Paris, I can hear the genuine bravado in Jacques's charismatic performance amidst the orchestral ensemble. The manner in which he belted and elevated his voice with such poise and eloquence in his dialect is quite impressive. Not to mention the humorous lyrics, which after translating come off as cheeky and mildly crass, certainly made me chuckle.

Yet, I'll admit I wasn't particularly blown away from these live performances. It's clear that Jacques was the focal point, as François Rauber's orchestral arrangements don't offer much in the way of intriguing passages or distinct melodies outside of a few exceptions such as "Amsterdam" and "Les jardins du casino". A case could be made that those later artists who were influenced by Brel were able to expand and improve upon what he started as a performer, while offering more memorable compositions.

In a way, Jacques Brel was a trailblazer, and this Olympia 64 live compilation serves as a testament to his genius.

I'm very fortunate to have gotten the three Nirvana albums in the 1001 books in chronological order, because that means I got to enjoy their MTV Unplugged performance with the context of what led up to that night. Sadly, though, the more prominent aspect of this release was that it came out months after singer-songwriter Kurt Cobain's suicide. Originally, the plan was to release a double album called Verse Chorus Verse, which would have comprised various live performances on disc one and the MTV Unplugged performance on disc two. The process of combing through archives proved to be emotionally taxing for surviving members Dave Grohl and Krist Novoselic. Thus, only the second disc was released as its own product.

As for what we got, the band played stripped-back acoustic renditions of their songs, accompanied by Germs guitarist Pat Smear and cellist Lori Goldstein. Between the intimate arrangements and Kurt's harrowing vocal delivery, these songs are given a fresh perspective, including leaning more into the Beatles influence on "About a Girl" and the solemn renditions of "Dumb" and "Something in the Way". Even more impressive were the multiple covers in this set, with particularly striking takes of David Bowie's "The Man Who Sold the World", the Meat Puppets' "Lake of Fire", and the traditional "Where Did You Sleep Last Night". New life was breathed into these tracks to the point where one can wonder the sonic direction the band would have gone.

Not much else to say here, as Nirvana's MTV Unplugged performance was a truly endearing experience. It was a bittersweet way to end my time with Nirvana on this album journey.

It was a matter of time before I got an Elton John record. The songwriting partnership he's had with Bernie Taupin led to some of the most innovative piano-driven music during the 1970s. Madman Across the Water was released towards the beginning of that successful run and is solid in its own right.

The obvious highlight of this record is the opening two singles, "Tiny Dancer" and "Levon". Those two songs alone are some of the most enduring classics in Elton's discography. In fact, I'd say side one as a whole is a rather song half, with the endearing ballad "Razor Face" and the sinister slow-burner that is the title track.

As for side two, things start to falter a bit in the songwriting. I wasn't into the Native American stereotypes leaned on for "Indian Sunset", even if there was good sentiment in writing about their displacement. The quality picks up with Elton's road song in "Holiday Inn", followed by the plight of the prisoner in "Rotten Peaches", and the choir accompaniment on "All the Nasties" as Elton confronted his sexuality. A rather short goodbye follows this, and the album ends as I'm admittedly left wanting more. It's certainly not a bad problem to have, but it feels like the album peaked with the first half, as the rest was good but not quite up to par with what was offered earlier.

Madman Across the Water is a record that is on the cusp of greatness. I know Elton and Bernie's songwriting will continue to improve as the style shifts towards glam rock, and I look forward to hearing how this change unfolded.

Last time I listened to the Stooges on this album journey, I enjoyed the kinetic energy of their self-titled debut, even as the band was still finding its footing. Some time after that record, Kingsmen keyboardist Don Gallucci was put in charge of producing the Stooges' next record. The band and Don rearranged the studio to emulate their live performance sound as closely as possible. The resulting album of those sessions was Fun House, and it is with this record that I feel the Stooges made their proper introduction.

From the opening notes of "Down on the Street" as Iggy Pop screeches and howls, the band's approach is already noticeably different compared to a year prior. The gritty, underseed belly of their garage rock style rears itself, as every member played well in the mix, most notably Dave Alexander with his delectable bass lines near the front. Also brought into the fold was saxophonist Steve Mackay, who cut loose in the second half with his soaring tenor notes serving as a hedonistic juxtaposition to Ron Asheton's electric guitar shredding and the beat-pounding rhythm section. All the elements coalesce into a frenetic, chaotic pairing of jazz fusion and proto-punk, the kind of unholy matrimony that would prove influential on the likes of the Minutemen and Refused. The proverbial time bomb ticks down to the roaring explosion of "L.A. Blues", as the cascading noise and Scott Asheton's manic drumming, the band wailing in desperation, embracing the destructive spirit within themselves.

Simply put, Fun House kicks major ass. It's the sort of record that doesn't just kick the door open; it burns the house down.

I feel like I've slowly come to appreciate Wilco more after mildly enjoying Yankee Hotel Foxtrot as album #60 on my journey. Going further back to their second record, I found more immediate appreciation for Being There.

This album is rooted in the foundation of singer-songwriter Jeff Tweedy's former alternative country group, Uncle Tupelo, while incorporating more psychedelia and stylistic influences from other bands. From the gritty crescendo of "Misunderstood", to the rocking Rolling Stones number "Monday", to the pedal steel rollick of "Forget the Flowers", to the piano-led slow burner of "Red-Eyed and Blue", to the electronic flourishes that open "I Got You (At the End of the Century)", the experimentation on this record is vast such that it kept engaging for most of the runtime. Pair that with the skilled musicianship on display, crisp production, and Jeff's touching lyrics centered around the notion of the tortured artist, and the result was a gripping experience.

Sure, this album does run rather long at over 76 minutes, and perhaps the genre-hopping experimentation comes off as a bit unfocused. But I still felt like I had an overall fun time listening to Being There, to the point where I may have to re-evaluate my feelings towards Yankee Hotel Foxtrot a lot sooner than I thought.

I've been enjoying CHVRCHΞS ever since I caught their set at Lollapalooza back in 2018. A modern-day synthpop group where all three members share the workload on synthesizers and production, while Lauren Mayberry helms the lead vocals, they've refined their style and writing over the years to the point where I consider Screen Violence to be one of the best albums of 2021. Needless to say, I was looking forward to going back to their debut, and it still holds up over a decade later.

From the blaring start of "The Mother We Share", the instrumentation on this record harkens back to the early 1980s with such a booming impact and presence. The synths are crisp and balanced out by thicker beats and effects that keep the mix busy without feeling overcluttered. All the while, the production remained surprsingly rich, giving the sound enough breathing room and swell as needed. This sound comes especially handy when the band crafts such memorable hooks and melodies, with a lot of upbeat energy and distinct character behind Lauren's dignified yet approachable soprano vocals. Martin Doherty may do a solid enough job on his features, but it's Lauren who makes this album work so well with her measured and emotional delivery.

As for the lyrics, The Bones of What You Believe is about showing you everything you believe in your heart to be hollow. In the wrong hands, such a direction could be considered abrasive or obnoxious. Yet, CHVRCHΞS prevail here by including the necessary nuance and detail. "The Mother We Share" opens with Lauren assuming the role of the neglected sister opposite the favored son, as her delivery balances the anger and regret with the love she still holds for the brother in question. It's this kind of morally ambiguous framing that carries through the record, exploring various relationship troubles, like the tired weariness of "We Sink", the explosive anger of "Gun", the desperate recapture of an old flame on "Lies", and the cautious approach back to the lover on "Recover". There are a few notable exceptions. "Science/Visions" sees someone cave under pressure when confronting questions they can't understand, but still attempt with futility anyway, which is applicable for both relationships and the cultural divide between the supernatural/religion and science. Meanwhile "Under the Tide" is a stridently optimstic tune where the imagery of keeping one's head above water is a potent metaphor to keep one's spirit up after a fallout. The album's theme comes into focus on the closing number, "You Caught the Light", where one comes to realization that their beliefs and dreams may not ultimately matter compared to the greater truths or what their partner (or ex-partner) might actually want. It's a moment of humility and quasi-redemption that neatly bookends the record, encapsulating how we, as individuals, are not the center of the universe and should be open to other beliefs and interpretations, all framed in terms of human relationships that I think we can all relate.

Yeah, The Bones of What You Believe is great, a debut album that took a lot of risks. CHVRCHΞS have largely improved their songwriting since this record, but it's amazing how well they established their identity from the get-go.

If there is ever a band that gained a cult following from one album alone, it would be the Zombies. Frustrated by their lack of success, they signed to CBS Records and recorded their second studio album at Abbey Road Studios. Tempers flared as the band worked under a tight budget, with morale hitting an all-time low at the end of the sessions. After the first two singles failed to chart and demand for their live appearances dwindled, the Zombies split up. Months after their breakup, Odessey and Oracle was released in the UK, and it was musician Al Kuper's convincing of the album's merits to his superiors at Columbia Records that the record had a second chance in the US market. "Time of the Season" became a sleeper hit, and the legend of the Zombies started to grow.

After giving this album a listen, I can hear the dedication in the songcraft and production. After the Beach Boys put out Pet Sounds, and the Beatles put out Sgt. Pepper's, the Zombies had their baroque pop record. The sound is lush and ornate, with Rod Argent's elegant work behind the Hammond organ and Mellotron, the bouncy rhythm section from Chris White and Hugh Grundy, eclectic guitar lines from Paul Atkinson, and Colin Blunstone's breathy vocal delivery supported by a multitude of harmonies. The overall style is very psychedelic and avant-garde, paired with lyrics that present as a series of dream sequences in the mind, with vivid imagery used to describe the passion for love felt by the narrator, only broken up partway with the wartorn conflict eloquently described on "Butcher's Tale (Western Front 1914)". Even in the argument could be made for more varied subject matter, the execution makes up for any shortcomings.

I honestly couldn't find any fault with Odessey and Oracle. The Zombies would reunite decades later to revel in the glory that this album brought.

I'm coming to accept that there is a fair amount of highly-regarded live albums out there that are more like live "compilations". For many of these live records in the 1001 Albums book series, they are not the full, unedited performance, but rather the best recordings captured and curated for the at-home listening experience. As such, I have to temper my expectations whenever I get a live record, because chances are good that portions of the concert are missing, either due to poor recording quality, the limitations of how much could fit on vinyl at the time, or a preferred rearrangement of the track listing.

Case in point, the Allman Brothers' commercial and artistic breakthrough, At the Fillmore East, is not the full performance of any of their March 1971 shows at the New York City club Fillmore East. There were limitations, as some of the performances involving guest horns and harmonica could not be properly captured with the 16-track machine that producer Tom Dowd had at the time. Also, each night after the shows, Tom would listen through the taped performances with the band, and together they would choose which portions sounded good. This was a deliberate approach that sacrificed the complete performance, as the band wanted people to experience the Fillmore East shows in the fondest way possible, as they cherished them.

The remaining selections constitute a solid exhibition of what the band was like at the time, with country-rock covers of blues standards and sprawling extended jams. The highlights are the exchanging solo guitar affairs of Duane Allman and Dickey Betts, elevating these tunes in a manner akin to improvisational jazz. It's mesmerizing how much time the band squeezed out of their jam-oriented compositions, especially cuts like T-Bone Walker's "Stormy Monday" and their originals, "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed" and "Whipping Post".

While it would have been nice to have experienced the full performance, which later deluxe reissues have satisfied, the original At Fillmore East album is still a strong, kinetic record from start to finish.

Third Leonard Cohen album on my journey, and this time it's his synthpop record. During the 1980s, Leonard was moving toward modernizing his sound, which in the context of the decade meant embracing synthesizers, drum machines, exotic textures, and emphatic female backing vocals. What's weird is that he mostly gets away with this stylistic change.

Yes, this album has a dated sound, and not every song works. "Jazz Police", in particular, is a terrible composition with buzzy synths and a sterile rhythm section, as Leonard complained about when jazz motifs were incorporated into his previous works. But for the most part, Leonard continued to deliver his dark poetry in a more refined, raspy delivery, and the bouncy production behind him oddly worked in not distracting from the heavier undertones of his words. In fact, I could find myself having a perverse sense of joy in strutting to the swagger of "First We Take Manhattan" as Leonard makes his bold response to terrorism, or sink into the dreariness of "Everybody Knows" and the title track. Also worth mentioning is the effective closer, "Tower of Song", as the energy is dialed back for Leonard to lay bare his dedication to the songcraft.

Yeah, Leonard Cohen's synth-pop record was mostly good. That is not a statement I would have made before this album journey.